


Memento Vivere

by eorumverba



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eorumverba/pseuds/eorumverba
Summary: Kibum bites his lip, retracts his hand to say, “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form. Jalaluddin Rumi said that.” What he doesn’t say is that he knew Rumi personally, in another life.





	

> _One - 1692_

It is 1692 and the witch trials are raging; it is now at the point where anyone accused with little to no evidence can be executed. And quite honestly, Kim Kibum can’t say he minds. If it comes down to it and some girl he’s fucked ends up getting pregnant, he can just turn her in as a witch who had seduced him, and that would be the end of _that_. But it does get to the point where no girl is willing to bed with him, so Kibum turns to Kim Jonghyun. It was difficult at first, bedding a man, but Kibum doesn’t really care anymore. A hole is a hole, and Jonghyun’s is _too fucking good,_ always tight and hot around him. And Jonghyun is more than willing to give himself up for Kibum - how could he miss the lovestruck look in Jonghyun’s eyes?

Kibum doesn’t even feel bad whispering _I love you’s_ back to Jonghyun in the middle of their trysts, even though all he is concerned with is getting his release.

They have a delicate cat and mouse game; they are just acquaintances, not even friends in public, but as soon as they meet gazes and confirm the wordless question with an inconspicuous nod or head shake, they meet in the woods, behind the stables at night, anywhere they can and Kibum pulls down Jonghyun’s breeches, turns him around and slicks his fingers to prepare him. And Jonghyun is so _compliant_ , barely makes a noise even though his whole body is trembling and his lip is bitten from the effort to keep quiet.

Sometimes, Kibum wants to see how much he’ll have to do to get Jonghyun to cry out, but he never tries. And while Jonghyun is always completely bare before him, Kibum keeps his loose linen shirt on and his breeches around his ankles, just to keep things impersonal. But Jonghyun doesn’t mind - probably doesn’t even notice with how far gone he is - and the only times Kibum kisses Jonghyun are the times when he can’t manage to muffle his whimpers and moans with a fist at his mouth.

And their covers and alibis are more than perfect, which is why Kibum is so annoyed that Lee Taeyeon seems to know - or at least _suspect_ \- that their relationship is more than it seems. She’s always _looking_ at them with serious eyes and a tight-lipped frown like she’s seen what they’ve done, what they’ve whispered away from everyone else.

But Taeyeon is only ever stone-cold and silent around _Kibum_. With children she is open and friendly, she even _laughs_ when she’s with Jonghyun. But then, Jonghyun is just _charming_ , always bright and warm - Kibum almost feels bad about what he’s doing to him. Almost.

He corners Taeyeon one day, boxes her in against the back of the school building and cages her there with his arms. Taeyeon looks completely unfazed by Kibum’s sudden movements, merely raises her brows and crosses her arms. The serious look doesn’t suit her, Kibum thinks suddenly. He wants to see her the way she is with everyone else: free and happy, eyes squinted into crescents and pink lips curved up.

But what comes out instead is a whispered, “Why do you hate me?”

Taeyeon looks surprised at that. Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth, then closes it. “I don’t…hate you. I loved you, once.”

“And what changed that?”

She reaches out to press her small hand against Kibum’s heart, and he stills. “Your heart is empty. There is only room for yourself…and he loves you so _much_.”

At that, Kibum stiffens and wrenches away from her, dizzy. “What do you know about that?”

“I know that he loves you…Jonghyun loves easily, but his heart is always true. I know that you could have loved him, once. I know that you are too afraid to let anyone in. Too afraid to ever love anyone now,” Taeyeon’s smile turns distant, then slips from her face, “I know that you could have had so much _more_ than this.”

“Taeyeon?” Jonghyun’s voice is quiet, but he’s looking at Kibum as he speaks. He looks…almost _betrayed_ , and that is when Taeyeon stretches up to put her lips to Kibum’s ear.

“Think about what I said, Kibum. This may be your last chance.” That said, she slips under Kibum’s arm and walks away without looking over her shoulder.

“Kibum?” Jonghyun’s voice is even quieter now, and it looks like he’s about to cry.

“What do you want?”  

Jonghyun flinches back, and Kibum softens, biting his lip. “I’m sorry, Jonghyun.”

“It’s okay…I just…have a question. Don’t you care about me?”

And Kibum stills, because he _doesn’t_.

“Thank you, Kibum.” Jonghyun must have taken Kibum’s silence for an answer, and he, too, turns away without looking back.

—

The night before Taeyeon is to be burnt at the stake, Kibum dreams of her.

“I told you,” her expression is unreadable, and her voice flat, “that that was your last chance.”

“For _what?_ ”

“You will not rest until your heart learns to love again, Kibum.”

And before Kibum can think to ask what she means, Kibum wakes up covered in sweat, shivering. Something feels _different_ , but he doesn’t know what it is, so he ignores it. It is just starting to get light out, so he steals over to where Taeyeon is being held. He is familiar with the guard on duty and persuades him to let him speak with Taeyeon for a moment.

She is awake, does not startle when Kibum steps up in front of her. “Good morning.”

“You-” but the guards are here, ready to take Taeyeon away.

“Ah, we’re out of time…you’ll figure it out on your own, I’m sure,” Taeyeon smiles, but it does not reach her eyes, “I’ll be seeing you quite soon.”

Kibum realizes what she’d meant when typhoid sweeps through the village, and he is the only one that does not die.

* * *

> _Two - 1804_

It is 1804, and Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa has been added to the Louvre. Kibum doesn’t see what makes that particular painting so important, but he has not been to Louvre yet since its opening, so he figures he may as well now.

The gallery isn’t all that crowded, all things considering, but Kibum doesn’t mind. He walks quickly through the gallery, intent on seeing Da Vinci’s piece before the morning crowd comes in, and he locates it quickly.

There is only one other man standing in front of it, and when Kibum steps up next to him, his breath catches in his throat.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” the man’s eyes turn from the painting to his, and he smiles, “my name is Jonghyun.”

“Kibum.” Kibum holds his hand out to shake, and Jonghyun takes it. His hands are soft and warm, not calloused like they had been before.

“Pardon, but…have we met before?” Jonghyun looks confused, and his hand is still in Kibum’s. It doesn’t look like he’s noticed, so Kibum doesn’t pull his hand away either.

“No, sorry. I don’t believe we have.”

Jonghyun hums then, smile turning soft. “It’s a shame Da Vinci couldn’t paint you. You’re gorgeous.”

Kibum bites his lip to hide his smile: this Jonghyun is much more open and flirtatious than his previous reincarnations had been. “Surely you jest. I’m no model.”

“I do not. You could have been his muse.” Jonghyun’s hand comes up to brush against Kibum’s cheek. The touch is soft and innocent, fleeting.

And oh, Kibum thinks, _oh_. Because this Jonghyun does not _remember_ , what they had, what they could have been, what he’d done.

“I could be your muse instead…” Kibum murmurs, “I could give you endless stories, I could be yours for as long as you wanted.” He could tell Jonghyun of all the times they’d met before, of all the endless cycles and the lives they’d had, together and apart.

But Jonghyun just smiles, does not see the weight of his words. “Did you get to see the rest of the gallery?”

“Yes, yes. Did you?”

“I came on the opening day, I’ve been here plenty of times. Art…it’s stable. It’s saccharine.”

“You’re such a romantic, Jonghyun.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I didn’t say it was,” and when he has Jonghyun’s full attention, “do you want to come over?”

“I’d love that.”

Kibum has bought a studio apartment by the Seine, decorated it sparsely - just enough so that everything comes together, but nothing clutters. He’s painted it a light bluish gray that reflects the coldness of the cloudy sky and murky waters, and Jonghyun’s eyes rove appreciatively about the minimalist room.

“I like it.”

“Thank you.” Kibum points to the couch, “you can put your jacket there. Shoes off, thanks. Do you want a drink?”

“Ah…do you have anything warm?” Jonghyun sits on the couch, almost stiff while Kibum goes to the kitchen area.

“Is tea good?” And when he gets an affirming hum, Kibum reaches up to the cabinets to pull out a jar of loose leaf tea, the sweet berry flavored one the Jonghyun of China used to love.

When it’s finished brewing, Kibum pours tea into two cups and sits next to Jonghyun, placing both cups on the coffee table. “Do you play an instrument?”

Jonghyun lets out a sudden bark of laughter as he shakes his head. His eyes are squinted up into crescents and he looks so genuinely _pleased_ by the assumption that Kibum can’t help smiling too. “God, no. I’m a painter!”

“And shall I be your muse?” Kibum lets his hand fall to Jonghyun’s thigh, ignores the pounding of his heart in favor of letting a coy smile slip across his lips.

But Jonghyun’s eyes are serious when they meet Kibum’s; and despite the want he can see clear in Jonghyun’s eyes, neither of them move. It’s Jonghyun that speaks first, each word coming out slow and steady, like he is thinking of each word as he speaks it. “I don’t…want to sleep with anyone I didn’t care for. And call me a romantic, but I’m _drawn_ to you. You’re so familiar…”

“Believe me, I know.” God, does he know.

“You feel it too? It’s like…I _know_ you. Like…” Jonghyun reaches up to brush his fingers against the spot just behind Kibum’s left ear, the spot that always makes him shiver, “I _knew_ you’d do that. I knew you once, didn’t I?”

Kibum bites his lip, retracts his hand to say, “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form. Jalaluddin Rumi said that.” What he doesn’t say is that he knew Rumi personally, in another life.

“What do you mean?”

“If you think I’m so familiar…” Kibum chooses his words carefully, on the brink of decision, “I must be, somehow.”

“My muse?” Jonghyun’s soft hand trembles when it is pressed to Kibum’s cheek, and he nods. It’s then that Jonghyun leans forwards to kiss him, light and soft. His lips are chapped from the cold but still plush and gentle. When Jonghyun pulls away, his lips are curved up in a shy grin and Kibum lets his hand wander back to Jonghyun’s thigh, squeezing lightly.

“If you would have me.”

“I would.”

—

And after, Kibum lets Jonghyun wrap an arm around his waist, lets himself relax into the warmth of Jonghyun’s body. It’s comforting, familiar - having him here, the dull ache in his lower back, the vanilla-honey smell that always surrounds Jonghyun.

“What now?” Jonghyun’s voice is clearly sleepy, and his fingers are tracing gentle paths against the bare skin of Kibum’s hip.

And Kibum pauses, because what now? He would still hurt whether Jonghyun stayed or left, but the wondering of what they could have been would haunt him each day. “I want to be your muse,” he mumbles, rolling over to kiss Jonghyun again, “for as long as you would have me.”

“Forever, then.”

Kibum thinks forever sounds good.

* * *

> _Three - 1850_

Kibum travels to London and makes his life there; buys a large house that stays devoid of personality. His servants stay well fed and well paid, and Kibum treats them well, if not callously. His heart is still _empty_ , and he does not mind, because he is rich, and immune to scarlet fever and tuberculosis. Kibum has nothing to _lose_ , and he is high on his money and the endless stretch of life before him.

He gets an invitation to the ball - of course - and the only reason he decides to attend is because of who it is _for_.

He has not expected Jonghyun to be a female in this life, but he supposes he would not mind that at all.

The house Junghee’s family owns is big enough to rival Kibum’s own, and tastefully decorated as well. Kibum follows the crowd to the ballroom and surveys the room, politely smiling and greeting those that come up to him. It is then that he sees her, in the corner of the room with two others close by. They are gorgeous as well, but they pale in comparison to Junghee.

She is beautiful: chestnut hair sitting in elegant curls on the top of her head and falling to highlight the slight swell of her chest. Her skin is made paler by the rich blue tulle of her dress, and there is a simple gold bracelet around one slim wrist.

Kibum walks easily up to her, ignoring all the eyes on him, and he offers his hand, ignoring the way she _looks_ at him. Haughty, almost, if not interested.

“Might I have this dance?”

She looks him up and down, eyes narrowed, but at a nudge from one of her friends, she quickly smooths over her face and takes Kibum’s hand. “Of course.”

And when Kibum has her out on the ballroom floor, he murmurs, “You needn’t hold your tongue. What is your name?”

Her brows raise and her skepticism is clear in her voice, but still polite enough to make Kibum grin. “Junghee. And you?”

“Kibum.”

“Well, Kibum. If you could _kindly_ take me to the balcony after this, I feel like I am going to faint from the tightness of this damn dress.”

Kibum snorts, a smile creeping over his lips. He thinks he quite likes _this_ version of his Jonghyun. “Of course. We could go now, if you wanted.”

“I am not _that_ ill.”

“I was not suggesting that. This room is quite stuffy though, and I do not know if it is because of the heat or because of people like _that_.” Kibum jerks his head towards a trio of simpering ladies all crowded about two men.

Junghee giggles delightedly and her eyes widen when Kibum dips her suddenly. “Can you keep up?”

“Of course!”

And she _does_ ; Kibum leads her through effortless spins and lifts that have been ingrained in her body from countless lives before, moves that make her begrudging smile grow into a genuine one. They have danced like this before, and Kibum finds himself growing bold when she remembers; she is relaxed against him, completely trusting and when Kibum’s hand slips down from her hip, she barely blinks, just adjusts her body against his so they can dance pressed together, They are barely moving now, swaying together like they had in their small bedroom in Russia.

It is Junghee that moves away first, suddenly conscious of the eyes on them, and Kibum rolls his eyes inconspicuously so that only she can see. It makes her smile, but they keep their steps precise and proper, like they were supposed to all along. And when the song finally ends, Kibum can’t help dipping Junghee one more time, holding her in that position until she laughs, color high on her cheeks. Her chestnut curls are disheveled now, but she appears not to care, just brushes it back impatiently.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?”

Kibum simply smiles, hoping it reaches his eyes. “I have traveled to many places, Junghee.”

Junghee’s eyes light up and she leans towards Kibum as he steers them towards the balcony. “Tell me about that, Kibum.”

“Hm?”

“Your travels!”

Kibum hums as he stares out at the gardens, the bushes well-maintained and likely freshly cut. “What in particular would you like to know?”

“Well…where have you been?”

“All over,” Kibum shrugs, “Paris-”

“Have you been to the Eiffel tower?”

“Of course, many times. The Louvre too-”

“The Mona Lisa as well?”

“She is a fading beauty in comparison to you.”

Far from being flustered and pleased, Junghee rolls her eyes, scoffing. “I am _not_ so easily pleased, Kibum.”

“Clearly. It truly is a breath of fresh air.”

“You are the only one that thinks so. A pity, that I am already engaged…I would have not have minded marrying you-”

“Engaged?”

“Yes…from childhood. My parents gave me no choice in the matter, like they did everything else.”

“Run away with me.”

“What?”

Another couple comes out to the balcony, so Kibum offers Junghee his arm and steers her back through the ballroom, down the stairs and to the gardens. It is quiet there, the night cool, and Kibum drapes his jacket across Junghee’s bare shoulders.

“Run away with me,” he repeats, “we could marry and I could take you on all my travels. We could see the _world_ , Junghee-”

“I can’t,” Junghee is shaking her head, and it looks like she’s about to cry, “I _can’t_ , Kibum. I want to, _god_ I want to, but I can’t…I don’t even _know_ you!”

“But you could. I would give you your freedom, Junghee. Not any other man could say that.”

“But would you _love_ me?” Junghee’s voice is quiet, and Kibum stills as well. His hesitation makes her shake her head, but she doesn’t look surprised.

“Your heart…it’s empty, Kibum. If we lived in any other time, maybe…but I can’t. I…I’m sorry.”

Kibum lets her walk away.

* * *

> _Four - 1924_

Kibum drinks now not to get _drunk_ \- it’s been long since he’s gotten drunk or had a hangover; he drinks for the taste that swirls through his body and because it makes him look so, so good when he’s alone at a bar, casual with a glass of wine at his fingertips and a bottle of vodka already in his system.

Usually, he drinks at home - he has his own wine from years and years ago, and he likes being able to lounge around in his stylishly decorated apartment. But because he’s so close to Chumley’s and because he has so much wine to spare, he often makes appearances there, always coming alone and leaving with a girl - or guy - on his arm.

Tonight though, he sees Junghee again for the first time in _years_. Her hair is shorn in a sleek bob and platinum blonde now, and while her dress is nowhere near immodest, he can see the slender columns of her legs, dainty feet encased in dark heels. Glossy red lips are pursed into a frown as some guy sits too close to her and wraps a heavy arm around her bare shoulders.

Kibum stands without thinking, goes over to them both and offers his hand to Junghee, ignoring the other man. “Junghee, I had no idea you’d been waiting alone! I apologize.”

Relief and confusion floods into Junghee’s eyes, but she takes his hand and the other man stands as well.

“Who are-”

“Her cousin, Kibum. Now let her pass.”

When they are outside, Junghee shoves Kibum to the side, frowning. “I didn’t get to finish my drink.”

“I have plenty more, if you like wine.”

“I do,” Junghee looks slightly intrigued, but her voice is still hard, “what is the cost?”

“On the house. I have too much to spare. Are you coming?”

“…I suppose.”

Kibum offers his arm and Junghee takes it, and when they’re halfway down the block, she pauses again. “How did you know my name?”

“I fear you would not believe me even if I told you…but all I will say is that we knew each other once.”

“Like soulmates?”

Oh. “Precisely.”

Junghee just hums, and stays silent until they reach Kibum’s apartment. There, she flings herself onto the couch, and Kibum’s gaze unintentionally falls to her legs, long and slim and inviting.

“So, you said we’re soulmates? Why don’t I remember you then?”

“You believe me?”

“Shit, I’ve been told crazier things. Do you have a lighter?”

“I don’t smoke, sorry.”

Junghee shrugs and slumps back, hands in her lap as she stares Kibum down. “Well? Why don’t I remember?”

“I was cursed. Back in 1692-”

“So you’re _how_ old?”

“Turning 250 this September.”

“Holy _shit_.”

“Yeah,” Kibum grins wryly, “but my body changes to appear about your age. It’s how I know when it’s time for me to find you.”

“How do you know where to look?”

“I don’t. Some lifetimes, I never meet you. This was the first in about fifty years, give or take.”

“So…we’re soulmates. I’m a reincarnation, and you’re immortal. You were cursed…why?”

“1692 was the midst of the witch trials, in Salem. I was cursed because my heart was empty. I did not know love, and I still…” Kibum shrugs, “I don’t mind anymore, really. I’ve seen so _much_.”

“And what about me?”

“You are…what we could have had. Me and Jonghyun. He loved me so, so much, but I only wanted his body. I was cold, callous,” Kibum studies his hands, unwilling now to see the pity on Junghee’s face, “I still am. But less. Much less than I was then. You’ve helped.”

“Could you learn to love me as I am now?”

Kibum looks up, startled. “You’re taking this surprisingly well. But…I do not know. I could try.”

“None of the others believed you?”

“I never told any of them. I’ve come close, but…I never told them. The Jonghyun of France would have believed…and Russia’s Jonghyun might have.”

“I’m glad you have happy memories, at least.” Junghee’s smile is soft, and she slips over to Kibum, straddles his lap and brushes his bangs from his face.

“You are bold,” Kibum muses, hands settling on slim hips and bunching up the skirt of her dress as he raises it - just enough so that she shivers.

“Our souls are promised to each other, what harm can it do?” Junghee’s voice is low, quiet, and her painted lips are so, so close to Kibum’s own that he can barely breathe. (Not that he has to anymore - he knows that firsthand.)

“What of the wine?”

“You’re trying to get rid of me,” Junghee’s voice is devoid of any emotion, but she smiles down at Kibum and finds her way to the kitchen, comes back with an unopened bottle of Chateau Maraux.

“Ah, 1787. I’d gone back to France and bought that for a mere thirty dollars. Now it is worth thousands.”

“A true connoisseur, aren’t you?” Junghee jokes, pours two glasses. One she hands to Kibum, and the other she keeps for herself, sitting back on the couch.

And Kibum swirls the wine in his cup, contemplates on whether or not to say anything, but before the wine can touch his lips, Junghee speaks again, quiet.

“What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing, nothing.” _(The reason I have not told the others is because they died when I stay by their sides for too long.)_

“You have to let me inside, Kibum. If you want this curse to break.”

(Kibum doesn’t know if he _wants_ the curse to break, so he stays silent.)

“Fine, so be it.” Junghee drains the rest of the glass easily, and goes for another.

And when she is asleep, Kibum writes a note for her _(farewell, do not look for me, this is all yours now - K)_ and leaves the apartment for the last time.

When he comes back thirty years later, she is gone.

* * *

> _Five - 2008_

Kibum is tired.

He’s been through countless lifetimes, seen so much, and he’s _tired_. This lifetime is in Korea, and something has drawn him to the soaring buildings of Seoul, to SM Entertainment. He hadn’t planned on auditioning, but he’d been and done so much throughout all of his lives that he figured he may as well be an idol while they were still popular.

He auditions for dance; it’s something that’s been in his blood for centuries (he remembers endless dances: lifting partners in France, precise steps in London and erotic shimmies in America) and he _passes_. It’s something that should thrill him, but he can’t care - he doesn’t have the heart to.

The group is just him and four others - Kibum isn’t surprised to see Jonghyun (he looks different again: he hasn’t quite grown into his face, but he’s still just as short as ever) and the others seem drawn to him, to his infectious laugh and genuine smile. It’s just the five of them having a celebratory dinner, and it’s warm even if it’s a small space. Kibum gets the sense that they’re family - that the four of them are, and he’s just…there.

“Hyung, you haven’t eaten.”

Kibum turns to Minho and stares at him until the younger shifts, uncomfortable. “I’m not hungry.”

Jonghyun laughs then at something else, loud and unrestrained. “I didn’t really dream of being an idol, I just wanted to sing, you know? I wanted to do music. I didn’t even take the audition that seriously. What about you, Taeminnie?”

Taemin blinks once twice thrice at having been addressed. “I didn’t really want to be an idol either? I just liked to dance and sing. My friends and family said I should audition, so…here I am.”

“I’m glad you are,” Jonghyun has an arm around Taemin’s shoulder and Taemin covers his smile with his hand, “you’re cute.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Kibum barely represses a scoff at Jonghyun’s poor attempts to flirt with their maknae, and that’s when their gazes meet. Jonghyun’s smile turns soft and he nods in greeting, suddenly shy.

“Hey, Kibum.”

“Hi, Jonghyun.” Kibum notices Taemin’s eyes dart between them, but their youngest says nothing about it, so neither does he.

“You’re not hungry?”

Kibum opens his mouth, closes it, and instead of answering, he shrugs. Jonghyun laughs, but it’s quiet, more…personal. “Can I sit next to you?”

Again, Kibum shrugs, and Jonghyun takes that as a yes. When he and Minho have switched places, everything goes back the way it should have been, and then Kibum and Jonghyun bump elbows.

“You’re a lefty?” He never had been in his previous lives.

“Ambidextrous, but I prefer my left for eating…I’m sorry.” Jonghyun goes to switch hands, but Kibum stops him with a hasty hand on his wrist.

“I like it…it suits you. Even if…”

“Even if what?” Jonghyun is breathless, and for some reason, that makes Kibum smile.

“Nothing, Jjong.” The nickname slips out, but Jonghyun appears to like it, if his shy smile means anything.

“Jjong…I like that-”

“Shouldn’t you be calling him hyung?” Jinki asks then. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Kibum only understands when Jonghyun jerks away from him as if burned. Which was interesting, Kibum thinks, how the pull affected Jonghyun as well this time around.

“I like Jjong,” Jonghyun says with finality, “we’re all going to be a family…we shouldn’t have to be formal. Right?”

Taemin’s mouth is full of food, but he gives an eager thumbs up and nods, eyes squinting up as he smiles. Minho too, nods in agreement, albeit hesitantly.

“I think that if we’re all comfortable with each other, that’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Jonghyun’s arm goes around Kibum’s shoulders (and Kibum tries not to let his breaths stutter) as he speaks, “we’ve only got each other now.”

“Hyung,” Taemin chirps out, “Jonghyun, you don’t have to be so _gloomy!_ ”

“Yeah, Jjong. Don’t be so gloomy, this is a celebration.” Kibum pokes Jonghyun in the side where he _knows_ the other is sensitive, and Jonghyun jerks away, a pleased smile on his face. He looks like he’s maybe going to insult Kibum, but Taemin interrupts him, serious.

“Kibum-hyung, can I ask you something? In private?”

“Sure, Taemin.”

Taemin stands, so Kibum does too, follows him up to the roof and slips through the partially opened door behind him.

“What did you want to say?”

“You and Jonghyun…” Taemin’s voice is quiet, and it sounds like he’s thinking of each word as he speaks, “you care about him, don’t you?”

“I’ve just met-”

“Kibum.” Suddenly, when Taemin turns to him, there’s wisdom in his eyes, wisdom that is thousands of years old and that belays his childlike appearance.

So Kibum stops, and he thinks. He thinks of the original Jonghyun, of the Jonghyun he met in London, France, Russia. America and China and Brazil and _here_ , this Jonghyun. What they could have had, what his future in this life could be.

“Yes, I do.”

And Taemin smiles, gentle and so, so wise. “Good.” There’s a touch of playfulness in his eyes, but he doesn’t elaborate, just slips past Kibum and back downstairs.

Leaving Kibum to wonder what _that_ had been about. But he doesn’t have to wonder long, because there’s a soft knock on the open door, and when Kibum spins around, it’s Jonghyun standing there.

“Kibum.”

“Jonghyun.” Kibum turns away from him and stares out at all the rooftops. It’s lonely here in Seoul, empty with all the creations of man.

“What did Taemin tell you?”

“Nothing important-”

“I remember everything.”

Kibum stills then, facing Jonghyun now - he doesn’t move even when Jonghyun reaches out. His hand trembles against Kibum’s neck, but he continues speaking, voice shaking as well.

“This is our last life, Kibum.”

The seconds stretch into hours, and Kibum finally reaches up to cover Jonghyun’s hand with his own. “We should make the most of it then.”

Jonghyun smiles.


End file.
